


follow your arrow wherever it points

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: After years of Jonny hanging his two years of community college over Patrick's head, Patrick decides to take a class. He probably should of signed up earlier... and looked harder at the title of the class he was taking.AKA, in which Patrick takes a class in Queer Literature and Media and has realizations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: 
> 
> Warning taken down. I was put off as apparently my fears were unwarranted.

Patrick did not choose to take a few classes in the summer because of Jonny. Well. Not entirely. He was all about bettering himself, so college was a good way to improve his mind while he also improved his body through physical therapy.

Okay, Jonny had this thing about bringing up his two years in freaking college or whatever a lot. And sometimes Patrick swore if he heard, “In my Psych class” or “We studied this book in English 102” one more time he was going to punch him in the throat. BUT that was not his reasoning. 

He was going to be in Buffalo for a good chunk of the summer. There was a really great community college nearby. Why not take advantage of the time off to learn some stuff and who knows? Maybe he could keep going and sometimes get his degree in like… business. For when he stops playing hockey. Other players did shit like that.

Granted, he probably should have looked into classes _before_ the Friday before classes started but he didn’t know if he would even MAKE the first semester. (Stupid fucking Penguins.) It just gave him pretty limited choices. 

He’d thought he’d take a Stats class, because he freaking loved Stats, but the only one available was specifically for Psych majors and apparently was not the kind of statistics he would care about. He could take a language but he wasn’t sure he wanted to dedicate to Spanish, he kind of wanted to take French to piss off Jonny but those classes were full. 

The choices left were computer programming and a gender studies class. 

It was not that he _didn’t_ want to take the gender studies class, but he was familiar with the fact of just how much ribbing he would get. But then again, computer programming would be a lot more _work work_ and he weren't sure he needed to know C++ like… ever. For any reason. He could think of a few reasons he would need Gender Studies. 

He paid the cashier and didn’t blush, took the stupid book for the next summer session so he could possibly take a more relevant class and walked out. 

*

He might have wanted to take a closer look at the class he was taking before he walked into the bookstore on Monday morning at 9 am to find that the books were… all filed under Queer Lit. Which was a little interesting and definitely not something he was totally expecting. 

But he wasn’t going to back the fuck down from a challenge. He was Patrick Timothy Kane III and he was going to bite this bullet. Fuck it, he was man enough for this. 

So what if he ducked his hat a little bit when he went to buy the books, paid with cash and walked straight out of the building in the quickest fashion ever. He was being efficient. His class started in like forty-five minutes, he needed to get there early … 

His phone chirped from his pocket and for a blind second, he had a fear that he was getting a text from his manager asking what the fuck he was doing. Because that man had eyes in places that Patrick didn’t think was possible. He just _knew_ things. But it wasn’t. It was just Jonny. 

Sending him a picture, apparently, of him on a boat with the ever so clever, “ _I’m on a boat, take a good hard look at the mother fucking boat._ ”

He responded with a picture of him throwing up a middle finger. No caption needed. 

* 

So the class that he’d signed up for, as expected, was about 80% female. Which would be nice if they weren’t all like 18 and he wasn’t 26. He felt like a freaking creeper just sitting there, but whatever. He was there to study not to perv. (Okay, he’d hoped there might be some perving, but man he was wrong.) 

Apparently, the class was Gender and Sexuality Studies, and specifically a class of Sexuality in Media. Which sounded amazing and awesome, but turned out to be an exploration of all the ways that homosexuality had been coded in media for the last hundred years. So, a little less awesome than he’d planned.

Not that he wasn’t down with people’s sexualities. He was _totally okay_ with them. He’d had his adventures like everyone and maybe even more. You get lonely on the road and when you’re in Juniors and not allowed out there are a lot fewer lines than most would think.

So yeah, Pride and all that but he was going to spend three hours a day for five weeks on this shit? 

Freaking apparently. 

The teacher, Ms. Henderson ( _call me Amber_ ), took roll, which was, um… intimidating. When she got to his name she paused, looked up and looked directly at him (to be fair there were five guys in the class). She seemed to hesitate for a minute and then, blessedly, looked back at the sheet and marked him as present without calling his name out. He felt like he owed her an apple or maybe like an orchard for that. 

Patrick had fully expected the first day to be all ‘getting to know you’ games and a basic beginning of school shit. Except, he hadn’t been in school for 10 years and even then he was never really in school. Plus, apparently summer school only being 5 weeks meant every day was like really intense. 

Amber got down to business hard and fast, explaining the syllabus in what seemed like less than five minutes. He had his highlighter and his pen out to try and take notes _on_ the syllabus but she moved faster than Q when they were about to go back on the ice. 

Then, as soon as he put the syllabus down she jumped in. 

“Okay, so as the class denotes this is a class that is specific to homosexual undertones in Media and Literature. But I would like to add the classification that we will be focusing on male relationships. If you have a problem with this feel FREE to take it up with the people above me as my voice has yet to be heard. 

“Though I will point you to a lovely lady named Saphos and her _ahem_ husband from Lesbos. Or if you need contemporary example Rizzoli and Isles is a fave of mine. But again. Not here to talk about that. Just saying.” 

She gave the room a beatific smile and though she was obviously at least a decade or so older than Patrick his brain wandered to what it would be like to have sex with her. She seemed like the type to take command and he kind of dug that. She played with her hair and flipped it back and what did it say about him that he was staring at the OLDER chick in the room? 

“Mr. uh... Kane?” 

He blinked. Fuck. She had continued to talk. Obviously. 

“Yeah?” 

“We’re talking about why we’re taking this class?” 

He was bright red and habitually he went to tuck his hat down, but he wasn’t wearing one after getting a death glare from someone in class. He shifted in his seat and tried to think of a reason that wasn’t, ‘My friend Jonny is a pain in the ass who rubs his two dumb years of college in my face’. 

“Uh, well, I… think that the whole concept is interesting?” he said. “You know, with how _relationships_ can be portrayed and sh-stuff.” 

Amber shrugged. “Good enough. You want to learn more and grow. I can dig it.” 

She went to the next person, who was a Gender Studies major who was _REALLY_ into the whole thing named Casey. Her answer was detailed and even though he knew that the last thing he had to do with this class made it a competition, she was totally shaping up to be his new Oshie while he was still on the Blues. 

When they started the first discussion about sexuality portrayed in media Patrick just listened. He was surprised to hear how people read different things into different material. He was pretty sure he’d seen completely different films for the past decade and yeah his best reading material was mostly stats pages from players for the last ten years and _Twilight_ but he didn’t exactly get how anyone could have written that much gay into a series and not had it been a big thing. 

(He noted that he needed to pick up the Harry Potter books. Or steal them from his sister’s room. It’s been a while, but Harry and Draco?) 

There was also a lot of discussion about the repression and representation of it that got him completely confused. What was seen to be anger was apparently people wanting to bone so hard that they fought? That was… not how he saw things. Sure he’d had some pretty epic post-fight sex in his lifetime but your entire relationship being built on it was a little much. 

By the time they had to go he had four pages of notes and no idea what any of them actually said. He’d been listening and noting things but people moved fast. They were giving their first assignment, reading from a book they’d had to buy. He looked at his bag and was relieved to find it was there. He kind of wanted to go home and just work out, eat, sleep and _then_ read. His brain felt a little overwhelmed. 

“Mr. Kane, can you stay for a second,” Amber said, no real question left there. 

He paused and let all of the class file past. Casey looked annoyed that she couldn’t stay to talk and ask questions but she left. It was like last off the ice, he guessed, and at least that meant he won the first round. 

“I hate to be this type of person, but why are you really taking this class, Mr. Kane?” Amber crossed her arms. 

Patrick shifted from foot to foot. “Um. To learn?” 

“You have three rings in what 5 years?” she said and he flushed. “You aren’t here to go on through a program, so why a Gender studies class at a Community College when you could have done literally anything else. You could be in Cabo or Timbuktu if you wanted…” 

He swallowed. “I’m sick of being one thing.” 

To his own shock, the answer was honest. It wasn’t why he took the class but he was sick of being one thing. He was sick of feeling sometimes like a robot, sometimes like a fuck up, and all the time like he just wasn’t quite enough for the world around him. There was only so much time he was going to be Patrick Kane of the Chicago Blackhawks and to be blunt he didn’t know who the other person was. 

Amber looked at him for a long second. He felt his jaw tighten for a moment. She took her long brown hair and tucked it up into a bun, putting a pen in it. 

“Okay,” she said like he hadn’t been pretty vague. “Well, know one thing. I’m a do or die Sabres fan, but I promise not to take my misery out on you as long as you show up and give me your A game. I am not giving you a pass here.” 

A smile crossed his face and he rocked up to the tips of his toes. “Of course.” 

He went home and did the reading while he ate lunch. He had to show his A game. 

*

By Friday of the first week Patrick had learned about four things. 

1) Apparently Sherlock Holmes was SUPER gay for Watson. He was going to have to watch those movies again. But like, there were woman back then who formed clubs and shit for their EPIC LOVE.  
2) This was by far NOT the first time Epic Gay Love was coded in written work. Like, if you looked back at shit it was freaking everywhere. His heel was not Achilles only weak spot. Greeks. Who knew?  
3) It wasn’t something like, out there, but movies had been pretty freaking loose with sexuality in general before Hollywood got all freaked out and made rules. But girls kissed. Guys kissed. It was not as big of a deal. Also, ‘confirmed bachelor’ was something he probably should stop calling a few of his friends.  
4) He was in WAY over his head. 

He’d thought the class was going to be pretty easy but he hadn’t really been in a classroom this much for a decade? And there was reading. So much reading. And watching films. And going through things to find coded language. 

The Thursday night of the first week, Jonny had called to ask if he wanted to fly out that weekend to do some fishing and have some beers and Patrick had to tell him no because he was going to be spending the weekend catching the fuck up on all this stuff. Jonny was ridiculously confused by Patrick saying no, not like he’d really been the type to turn Jonny down in the past but whatever. 

He also didn’t quite tell him what he was doing that was “super important” in Buffalo so Jonny might’ve hung up on him for being a dick and texted him to tell him he could call him when he was done with whatever important hook up he had. 

If only. 

Instead, he spent Friday night watching the Sherlock movies with Jude Law and RDJ and holy _fuck_ that was enlightening. Like, he’d seen the movies about a dozen times, casually in general but still, he had not seen… _everything_. He was pretty much out of his mind when Sherlock met Mary and was basically full-on pouting about it. How did he miss that? Totally scorn lover. It was hilarious. 

Saturday he was reading apparently the classics. Like, the Odyssey and shit. Turns out? Yeah. Some stuff in there a little sketchy. He wondered if this was everywhere and he just missed it. By the late afternoon, his brain was freaking fried and he put down the book. He called Erica because she’d minored in Women’s studies and maybe she could help him with that. 

It wasn’t the best idea he had ever had. 

She laughed for seven straight minutes. He knew this because he watched the clock on his cable box slip one by one past numbers. When she finally calmed down enough to breathe and use words she made him talk through it again, this time only giggling. 

“So you took a class to impress your hockey soulmate and now can’t tell him what class you’re taking cause it’s all about how latently gay the world is?” 

“He’s not my hockey _soulmate_ ,” Patrick snapped. 

Erica huffed another laugh. “You might want to talk to the fans, the media and the history books about that one, Tricks.” 

He grumbled, looking at the book next to him and thinking how he should have just kept freaking reading. “Erica, did you or did you not take a class about this?” 

“Did I take Epic Gay Love in college?” she asked. “Yes. I took the Sociology of Sexuality in college, I took Psych of Gender and Sexuality, I took Queer Lit. I can’t believe **you are** taking one of these classes, but I did.” 

He rubbed at his face. “So help me?” 

“How the hell do you need help? You seem to be listening, knowing you you are taking dorky notes with like highlighters and shit…” He totally was. “And you seem to not be being a douche about it. I think you’ve got it.” 

“Why would I be a douche about it?” 

Erica clicked her tongue. “You’re a dude in a hyper-masculine sport, the fact that you’ve yet to say ‘Ew’ or called it anything to do with the ‘F’ word to me is a huge step forward for mankind, believe me.” 

Patrick really wanted to defend his guys here but, to be frank he’d heard the word a little too much in his lifetime of locker rooms to say it honestly. Not that Jonny let it in _their_ locker room but whatever. 

“It’s interesting,” Patrick started. “But I feel like there should have been a precursor to the class. Like ‘Dude, shit is fucked up 101’.” 

Erica laughed again and he wondered if he could fly down to see her in New York. He missed his damn siblings, he could say that. “Look, Trick. There is a lot. But don’t worry, I got your six. We’ll start slow.” 

So he spent Saturday night eating a shit ton of chicken leftovers he had from the night before and being schooled by his baby sister about the fact that there was a lot of what she called ‘o-yay’ out in the world. He was pretty sure he was never going to be able to watch a buddy cop show the same again, and he was pretty annoyed by that. But it was cool to hear that his sister was freaking interested in it. 

He had a list in his email the next morning of all the movies and TV shows he _needed_ to watch as soon as possible. He mostly ignored it because like, he had a life and he needed to work out after being a couch potato the day before. 

Jonny texted him while he was in the middle of biking with a simple. 

“ _This weekend was super fucking fun. Too bad for you._ ” 

He texted back a picture of him biking and frowning, captioning it, “ _Well, you have me beat._ ” 

When he got showered and was bored, he looked up PSYCH and watched the first few episodes. 

This class was going to be the death of him. 

* 

It took until the next Tuesday for Jonny to call him. This was after two days of learning about the amount of phallic symbolism in books and old stories for two days, and taking a test about what they’d learned so far (which he aced, he was almost sure, because he’d been studying all the time). Patrick was shocked, actually, that it took him that long. Jonny was not known for subtly when he annoyed. 

“So was she worth it?” Jonny asked, before even saying hello. 

“Who?” Patrick asked, distracted by the sandwich he was making himself. 

Jonny scoffed. “Whoever made it so that you weren’t there this weekend.” 

“Jonny, if I was getting laid you would be hearing about it, trust me,” Patrick said, realizing afterward how weird that was to say to a friend. The class was messing with him again. “I… I’m taking a fucking class, okay?” 

The line was dead silent for a few seconds and then there was Jonny’s weird half laugh. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

“No, I’m taking a class. I thought it would be … fun?” 

“You thought taking a class when you are 26 would be fun?” 

He thought maybe he should have just made up a huge tale of epic boning but he still had 3 and a half weeks of class left and he was shit at lying to Jonny in general. “I don’t do anything epic in the summers. Usually, I fuck around my house and get into trouble. I figured if I was doing something to better myself I would at least not be fucking everything up.” 

“Dude, shut up,” Jonny snapped. “You’re not a fuck up.”

Patrick bit his tongue to keep from pointing out that he was mostly the only one to agree on that full time but instead tried to change the subject. “So, the weekend was good?” 

“Eh,” he responded. “I brought David, who whined when I refused to go to a freaking bar. We’d been outside all day, I was dehydrated. He’s such a brat.” 

“Tell the Better Toews I would’ve gone with him,” he said. 

Jonny huffed. “That’s what he kept telling me. What class are you taking?” 

Patrick put his free hand across his eyes. Whatever made him think that Jonny would let anything go was the same part of his brain that said staying up an hour more was a ‘good choice’ on game nights. 

“A lit and film class,” he said, as vaguely as possible. “We like, talk about themes of books and movies.” 

“A _lit and film class_ that talks about _themes_ ,” Jonny repeated slowly. “Could you try and tell me less about it. What kind of themes?” 

Patrick looked at his brand new copy of ‘The Celluloid Closet’ that was on top of a pile of books and movies he’d bought off Amazon over the weekend. “A variety of freaking themes, dude. Why does it fucking matter?” 

“Jeez,” Jonny said. “You’re snappy. I was just wondering if I’d taken a class like it. I was trying to be freaking helpful, Kaner.” 

“You have not taken this class,” Patrick said, one hundred percent positive on that account. “Look, I’ve got to get back to some reading done and pick a topic for a paper.” 

Jonny let out a put-upon sigh. “Whatever. I was just trying to see if I could help. Call me if you want to, or when you _actually want to talk_.” 

He hung up before Kaner could explain that he wasn’t trying to blow him off, but rather he was just stressed? About a class he was supposedly taking for fun. That was technically Jonny’s fault to begin with. Not that he would say _that part_ but gah. He was annoyed at the world. 

Also, he really did have to think of a topic for a paper. That was due on Monday. And he was pretty good at bullshitting stuff, but he wasn’t the best at _papers_ exactly. So he was trying to get it done by Friday so he could send it to his sister and have her look at it (laugh at him) and send it back. 

He was supposed to pick a written pairing (not from a movie or a show) and write a critique of sexuality portrayed in it. What the hell he was supposed to do with that was beyond him. He couldn’t do like… Sherlock. Too easy and they’d already talked about it. He guessed he could go back and find some Ancient Roman dudes or something but that wasn’t worth his time. 

So he’d ordered books off of his sister’s recommendation and found that there were a shit ton of them lying around. Modern to classic. And like, he’d read _Fight Club_ a time or two, but there had not been a thought in his mind of it being like… _latently gay_ until he was rereading it and found that there was a lot of it. Sure there was the fact that it could be considered self-love (incest? no….) but then he did some research and found that Chuck Palahniuk actually _said_ he was trying to push the boundaries of how much he could put in before guys freaked out. So he had source proof from the _author_ , which was probably the strongest support you could get, right? 

He realized belatedly that this was one of Duncs and Seabs favorite movies and he was probably going to have to watch it with the guys some time and that it was going to be super fucking awkward but eh. He got the feeling it was going to be awkward either way. He had the paper finished by Wednesday night and sent it along it’s way to Erica who texted him an hour later with:

“ _Holy shit, Tricks. You actually might get it. Way to be, big bro._ ”

Never let it be said his family wasn’t his rock and the center of his support system. That he only mildly wanted to kick sometimes. 

* 

A lot of the class was based around discussions, which was only a problem in that he was kind of worried someone would recognize him. But by the beginning of the third week he was comforted by the fact that no one had _said_ anything to him. Rather, he started to slip into discussions, raising his hand when needed or sometimes just talking when an idea he found fascinating was presented. 

People listened. Not like he was ever dismissed or anything, quite the opposite, but instead they were listening to him because they were interested in something _other_ than his ideas of who was in the running for the Conn Smythe or the Hart. He just got interested looks and people _adding on_ to his idea or better yet asking him questions he could add onto. It was pretty freaking sweet, to be honest. 

When he got his paper returned on Wednesday, Amber was beaming at him. He’d gotten an _A_ , with a page full of notes about his discourse being interesting and well thought out. She told him that he seemed to really understand and that even though she’d seen other papers about the topic she was amazed at the points he brought about. 

Carefully avoiding any evidence of what class it could be for, Patrick took a picture of the grade and sent it to Jonny with a 100 percent emoji. He was rather proud of his first paper in college getting him a 100 percent, especially because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten an A in high school. He wasn’t a bad student, but when you have hockey to keep you busy, a B or a C was enough to get by. 

“ _Nice one, Kaner._ ” 

This text was accompanied by Jonny lying out by a pool giving him a thumbs up. The dick. He hit send and waited. 

“I’m sending you the optometrist bill for blinding me with your whiteness,” he said when Jonny answered but Jonny just scoffed. 

“Unlike some homebound _students_ I’m working on my tan, fucker.” 

Kaner, who had a bottle of beer in his hands, hummed. “ _Working_ is the keyword.” 

“Nice job on getting an A,” Jonny said, and he swore he heard Jonny yawn. He could picture him, still by the pool and stretched out. He lost track of his thoughts for a second. “Kaner?” 

“Yes?” 

“Nice job on the _A_ ,” Jonny repeated and for a split second his brain went to a place where he’d been given an Alternate Captainship before he remembered the paper in his backpack.

He shook his head, distracted. “Ah, yeah, thanks. It’s pretty sweet. I got an A on the paper and got to be about freaking Fight Club. Awesome, right?” 

“Book or movie?” 

“Book,” he said. 

“What about the book?” Jonny said, his voice perking up. 

Patrick’s brain hiccuped and he had to think of what he was doing for a second before answering. “Uh. Tyler and the Narrator. I wrote about their… friendship.” 

“Really? What about it? I mean, it’s pretty cool. Like two sides of one person having a friendship? The Narrator being all boring and Tyler bringing out the worst and best in him at the same time. Then it IS him and that’s fucked up on a whole new level…” 

Patrick made noises of agreeable. “Something along those lines.” 

“We should watch that movie when we all get back. You know Duncs and Seabs would be all up in it, and you could give like, insight and shit.” 

Patrick choked on his own spit. “Uh, yeah. Sounds like a good idea… How is the Winterpeg?” 

“Good, I assume, I’m in Chi-town for a few days, didn’t I tell you? I’m doing some stuff with that new trainer dude that Duncs kept talking about. But only for like a week or two. 

He frowned. “Chicago?”

“Yeah, and some of the guys are here, wondering where your dumb ass is.” 

“You didn’t tell them, did you?” 

Just what he needed was to explain it to _more_ people.

“You are so lame, if I promise to drop the whole community college shit will you drop the class you’re in and come out with us?” Jonny whined at about week three. 

Patrick, who was only half paying attention while watching episodes of PSYCH, let himself bask in the idea of not writing any more papers or doing any more work. But the thing was that this was so far past the point of being just about Jonny. It had become more and more about the fact that he was doing something for _himself_. That he found the topic interesting, and that he liked being engaged in the discussion. 

Sure he wasn’t going to go into Gender and Queer studies or anything, but like. He might. He _could_ and it was worth going through the rest of the class for that. Especially as he was currently rocking a freaking 98 percent in the class and hells to the yeah he was keeping that. He wasn’t even sure when grades mattered to him _ever_ but he liked it. 

Before he could really think about it his mouth opened. “You know, visiting goes two ways, you bum.” 

“What, come and visit and sit and watch you look at books? Killer fun, Kaner.” 

He sighed. “If you came on a weekend I would like, do shit. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine.” 

There was a minute long silence before he heard Jonny answer. “Well, fuck it. Maybe I’ll come. At least find out more about your stupid class. Help you with your homework.” 

*

Jonny arrived at Patrick’s front door about two hours after his class was done on Friday. Patrick had probably broken every speeding law on the way home but it wasn’t like he could do his homework with Jonny there so he had forced himself to get into his house as fast as possible and read the assignment. 

It wasn’t that he was a slow reader, he was a thorough reader, so what might have taken most forty-five minutes took him and hour and fifteen, leaving him a little under forty-five minutes to write the short response he was supposed to do. 

Thankfully he’d gotten his cleaning lady to come early on Friday because he did not have to time to clean, it was like he emailed the response to his professor and the damn doorbell rang. Which, actually, was a mixture of frustrating and exciting. Any other time he would have killed to get Jonny to Buffalo but this one certain semester was pretty much the last time he wanted him there. 

He took his bag and threw it in the way back of his closet and ran to the front door with a smile. 

Jonny had a blank face, which always looked a little pissed on him but thankfully Patrick had long since been able to read it on him. 

“JONNY! YOU’RE HERE!” he said, possibly too excited. 

Jonny quirked a brow. “Patrick.” 

“Come on in, dude,” he opened the door and lead him to the standard guest room. It was the nicest one and had the best TV and was a mixture of close to his room and not too close. 

Jonny put his stuff down and scanned the room. “They didn’t have a bigger TV?” 

“Come on, 50 inch, it’s a beaut,” he smiled happily. Even with the slight stress of the whole class thing, Jonny being Jonny was … nice and familiar. Warm. “You thirsty? I got this great local beer. It’s killer.” 

In response Jonny went out the bedroom door like it was already decided. It didn’t shock Patrick one bit. He felt like a live wire, knew he was fidgeting way too much and had the stupid urge to grab the fidget box his sister had gotten him as a Christmas gift. It had buttons and nobs and clickers and was meant for people to calm them down, he’d taken it as a joke but man it might actually work in this situation. 

“How was your flight?” He asked as he got to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab the beers and a bowl of cut up strawberries he’d made because he knew Jonny liked them and it looked like something a grown-up would do. 

Jonny shrugged, popping a strawberry in his mouth. “The guy next to me was a Coyotes fan.”

“Those exist?” 

“We talked about Doan for a good chunk of the trip, he thinks he’ll retire this next year. I call Jagr on him.” 

Patrick laughed. “You know, as one Captain to another you could probably just ask.” 

“I don’t have all the Captains numbers, Kaner.” 

“Aww, bummer, I figured we’d crank call Sid later.” 

Jonny’s lips twitched. “I have _some_ of the Captains’ numbers.” 

Before he knew what he was doing Patrick had Jonny in a tight hug, taking a moment to breathe in the familiar scent that he didn’t quite get sick of. It hadn’t really been _that_ long since they’d seen each other. It just _felt_ like he hadn’t. 

Blessedly, Jonny returned the hug and even gave him a tight squeeze of the back. “It’s good to see you, Patrick.” 

“I know,” Patrick grinned, pulling away from him entirely. “I’m pretty awesome.” 

He should have expected the patented stare down of doom. 

“I missed you too, Jonny,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s been a long summer without you being you.” 

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Jonny said, sitting down on one of the bar stools and sipping from the beer. “Now, tell me about this class. You said something about Lit and Film? What are you working on?” 

Patrick did _not_ choke on his beer, thank you very much, but it was a close thing. He swallowed an unfair amount and tried to appear casual about it. “It isn’t Lit and Film, it’s Lit and Media. We’re uh… watching TV shows right now?” 

Jonny gawked at him. “You are seriously taking a class to watch movies, read books and watch _TV shows_? That’s what keeping you from partying with me and the guys?” 

“We analyze them,” he scoffed. “And we go in depth about how their portrayal of … certain aspects can be seen in different lights. It’s … interesting. I like it. Besides, I’ll be done in two weeks and then I can come to Chi-town and we can get into as much trouble as you want.” 

Jonny sighed. “What show are you watching now?” 

In class they were talking about a few different ones but he was focusing on one in particular. “Star Trek.” 

“STAR TREK? Are you taking a nerd class, Kaner?” Jonny smiled. “Are you going to start going to conventions and shit?” 

“First of all, I would fucking ROCK those conventions, second of all nerd isn’t an insult anymore and third Star Trek was some groundbreaking shit, dude. They had a Russian on the show in the HEIGHT of the cold war era. A kick ass Asian dude who wasn’t weak or just there to be smart. They had a smoking hot black girl in a position of power AND Spock and Kirk had a killer friendship that was based on trust and mutual respect even though they were polar opposites.” 

Even he was shocked when he finished. He was doing well in the class, paying attention and all that but he wasn’t aware just how MUCH he was paying attention because that was a lot of what his teacher had said. Jonny stared open mouth at him. 

“Ooookay,” he said, blinking at Patrick like he might freak out and go on another tirade. “Want to watch an episode and tell me how awesome it is?” 

The fact that the episode he put on was ‘Amok Time’ which turned out to be super latent homosexual only made him uncomfortable a little. Well, a lot. But Jonny seemed pretty oblivious about the whole thing. Even when Spock and Kirk were rolling around on a dirty floor with Kirk mostly naked, as he was want to do. 

“So now you have to write something up about anger management?” Jonny asked when the episode was over. “Or like camera angles?” 

Patrick denied himself the right to sigh. “Nah, actually I’m done with my homework. I figured I’d spend time with your dumb ass since you flew all this way to come see me.” 

“What the hell is there to do in Buffalo?” 

*

They go to his parents' house for dinner. Which was stupid on a lot of levels, not the least of which being that Jackie was there and was giving Jonny the serious side eye. In the years since they’d been teammates, they’d slowly gotten to know each other’s siblings, but Jackie always kind of disliked Jonny for whatever reason. 

“Jonny, it’s so good to see you here,” his mom said. “Patrick has been holed up in his house with school work and skills work. Too much work.” 

Jackie muttered. “Better than the alternative, OW. DAD.” 

“Jackie, be nice, we have guests,” his mother rebuked before continuing. “You and he should go out and have some fun. Let him show you some of the good places in town. How long are you here for?” 

Jonny, who had all but turned into robot interview Jonny, smiled weirdly and cleared his throat. “I have a flight out Monday morning.” 

“Dude, Monday?” 

Jonny shrugged, his cheeks going pink which was no doubt endearing to Patrick’s mom, the jerk. “It’s been too long, figured I’d soak up as much of your time as possible.” 

Patrick had to clamp down on the urge to sound like a teenager and whine at his mom. But like, seriously? Parents? He was in his mid-twenties, they could treat him less like he was a child. Jeez. Jonny kicked him under the table and he looked up to see Jonny smiling. 

“We always have fun, right Kaner?” 

The only thought he could actually distinguish was, _Fuck me_.

*

Later they lay on the couch with PSYCH on the TV (he was kind of addicted to it, he had a paper coming up and had a whole idea for it because of the damn show) and drinking beer when Jonny made a noise. 

“So you’re ditching the summer to watch buddy shows and read old books?” he asked, pointing at the pile of Sherlock books on his table. _Fuck_ , he’d forgotten to hide those. If Jonny actually inspected the pile he would find a book that detailed why and how the author hated writing it and the woman who loved it. 

He cleared his throat. “It was just half the summer. I mean, like two weeks and I’m done.” 

“So you’re ditching half the summer for this?” Jonny nudged his toes at the pile of books. 

“It isn’t that bad. It’s kind of cool, I mean, like… I’m learning a lot and the class is pretty interesting. The teacher is awesome, she has tenure so she doesn’t give a fuck, she says a lot of hilarious shit. And I’m just Pat there. I honestly don’t think anyone recognizes me. Well, except Amber.” 

Jonny tensed near him. “Amber?” 

“The teacher,” he said, turning part way to give Jonny a look. “You okay?” 

Jonny relaxed a little, but he still seemed a little out of it. “How are the girls? Everything you ever wanted and more?” 

Patrick choked on his beer, laughing at just the wrong time. When he caught his breath he rolled his head on the back of couch to look at Jonny. “The girls are just that. _Girls_. When did 18 start looking like 15? I mean the Rookies always look like babies to me, but these kids are like. Genuine babies. I don’t even know, man. One girl didn’t know that there were ‘new’ Sherlock movies. What the ever loving fuck?” 

“She would have been 10 or so when it came out,” Jonny mused. “I got asked to Vancouver about that time. We saw it over break, remember?” 

Patrick downed the rest of his beer in one go. “Oh dear gd, why did you have to put into that perspective?” 

Jonny laughed. “We’re old, Peeks.” 

“Shut your mouth, I am eternally youthful.” 

“Your hairline says something different.” 

Patrick put his hand out and landed on the crown of Jonny’s head. “We going to go there, Taze?” 

Jonny put both hands up. They both focused back on the screen, where Shawn was currently talking to Yang. He liked that chick. His mom made him watch Breakfast Club at least once a year because she was giving him _culture_ according to her and she was his favorite character. 

“How does this have anything to do with your class?” Jonny asked, a few minutes later. Shawn and Gus were following some blonde chick that WASN’T Juliet. Maybe he should watch this without the beer and Toews distraction. 

He huffed. “Shawn and Gus.” 

“The two dudes?” 

“Yeah, their like… friendship.” 

Jonny was silent for a second. “Are you taking a class on male friendships? Cause you wrote that paper on the Narrator and Tyler’s friendship… then these two friendships.” 

“Kind of,” he said before his brain caught up with his mouth. “No, I mean. About friendship… relationships? How people’s interactions happen in media?” 

That was the least coherent thing his brain could hand him. He sighed and tried to think of a better way to put it. 

“Like, Shawn and Gus are friends, right? But there is a power dynamic. Gus is pretty much the other side of Shawn. Shawn is all running in and saving the day but Gus is more or the ‘take a step back and think about it’ kind of guy. It’s similar with Tyler and the Narrator. 

“But like there can be different ones… Like Achilles and Patroclus…” 

Jonny raised an eyebrow. “Achilles, Greek guy with the heel?” 

“YEAH!” Patrick said. “But that wasn’t the only thing. Patroclus was like his best friend in the whole world and they had this awesome rela— friendship but people think that because Patroclus was older and Achilles was like super hot that it was a mentor and mentee relationship but some people think it was… different….” 

Jonny was giving him a look he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t amusement, not like he was going to hear about it for months or anything, but there was this slight half smile that was definitely _interested_. He looked … fond? Was that it? Patrick wanted to ask but that would be weird. Hell, it was already weird. 

“What?” he gave in, finally. 

“You just usually reserve that face for statistics and shop talk,” Jonny said. “It’s weird to hear it about other stuff.” 

Patrick kind of hoped it was dark enough for his stupid pale skin not to show it’s blush too easily. He shrugged, though. “It’s cool. I like it. I might… like. Take other classes next year. Who knows? Do you want another beer, I’m out?” 

He was already halfway to the kitchen. 

“Sure?” Jonny’s voice followed him, it had a tendency to do that. 

*

The weekend went fast and slow in bursts. He had stuff to work on, so sometimes he was a little annoyed that Jonny was _there_ just behind him ready to pounce if he got his laptop out for anything. He’d even gone so far as fake going to bed on Sunday night to get some work in when Jonny walked in, like he freaking owned the place, and asked what he was doing. He had to pretend he was looking at porn, which wasn’t _that_ much of a stretch in their friendship. 

Jonny turned bright red laughing and then proceeded to lay on the bed and ask to see what he was into these days. He put the computer under the bed and punched Jonny in the center of his stomach. 

Then again, driving him to the airport actually hurt in the way that driving to the airport with his family did. They didn’t talk much, it was early in the morning and Patrick still had to go to class, but when it came to the time they parted ways he got out of the car and gave him an actual hug. It lingered for a long moment, his head dug into Jonny’s shoulder. 

It didn’t hit him that wasn’t stuff they did often off ice until he got to class. 

*

He didn’t read into the fact that Jonny wasn't much for texting after that. Sure they DID text but it was simple and quick at best. He told himself it was because he was focused on the last part of the class because shit was intense. He’d never worked on class work as hard as he’d done for this … ever. Not even when it came to time’s he had to get a certain grade to go to a hockey event. 

But he _liked_ the class, for the most part. Sometimes he wanted to scream at how he was not allowed to watch shows anymore because he was developing a habit of just _seeing_ the homoerotic undertones. In SO MUCH MEDIA. It was crazy. How had he gone his whole life without seeing it? 

But it did bug him that Jonny wasn’t… talking with him as much anymore. He kind of thought he might have freaked him the fuck out with the whole hug thing but they had hugged before and they would hug again. Maybe it was the neck thing? He’d just. He had remembered thinking he didn’t know when he was going to see him again and that was weird and painful and so he was absorbing him or something. 

Which looking back was weird. 

*

They still had two days of class. Well, a day and a testing day. But whatever. They had two whole days left, but the day was mostly a day for review. They had made it through all of the actual material the day before. The teacher had pushed them on Monday-Wednesday so that Thursday could be a review and a question day. He was pretty cool with this, cause he still had about 100 questions. 

Casey, two seats in front of hi,m had her hand up pretty much the second the teacher asked for any questions and seemingly had twice as many questions as Patrick. Some of them overlapped, which was nice and he dutifully filled out the paperwork he had put together for himself to study off of. He let the fact that she was totally winning move behind him. She was also at the beginning of college so like. Maybe he should be the grown up here? 

He swore that Jonny was totally rubbing off on him. He was neurotic but never _this_ neurotic about details. 

“Casey,” the teacher kindly rebuked the girl when her hand popped up _yet again_. “How about this be your last question for a bit?” 

Casey’s head tilted down to look at her papers and she seemed to get flustered. She flipped pages and stopped on the last one. She breathed in. “Okay, what are your thoughts on the latent homoeroticism in real life friendships and how it can affect male to male peer relationships? Specifically, the walls put up, the levels of touching and the rise of ‘bromance’ in our culture?” 

**That** was not on his list. Real life? What the crap? They had been talking about fiction. FICTION. Also, he fucking _hated_ the word with ‘bromance’. People used it with him and Jonny all the time. It was like their damn moniker. The Chicago Bromance. Ugh. So they touched a lot and made each other laugh. 

The hug surfaced in his brain. 

“We usually don’t go into that part of the topic in this class,” the teacher hummed. “You know we have an entire class in sexuality and hypothesis of how it works? We’ve brushed the surface of the spectrum of sexuality but the concept of bromance is actually pretty broad. There are people who fall on all different parts of the line and real life friendships are trickier. There are a few of books of chronicling woman's sexuality flexing through their needs in life but none I've seen for men.” 

Casey, apparently, wasn’t interested in a vague bullshit answer. “But you think that a bromance is just an unfortunate nicknamed for a relationship being repressed by outside sources?” 

Patrick stared at the back of the girl’s head for a solid ten seconds. Something itching at the back of his brain. 

“Like, movies are all about the comedy of it, and that’s fine,” she continued on. “But there are a lot of so-called friendships that seem to have passed the friendship line but are touted as such. Not just bromance, but the ‘gal pal’ phenomenon. It took explicit announcement from Kristen Stewart for people to accept that she was dating a girl. And now she’s touted as gay when she’s dated guys in the past.” 

The teacher rubbed at one of her temples, seemingly giving up. “Well, in a heteronormative society the problem is that relationships are generally read as what we _expect_ from a relationship and in our media straight is expected. Not that that is a good thing or a bad thing, it’s just the way it is. And another thing to consider is that sexuality is never really covered in our younger years. People come out at 30 due to lack of knowledge of their own feelings. Males can repress feelings for years as we discussed in during our study of latent homosexuality. It’s a process.” 

He didn’t. He wasn’t. That was absurd. 

He raised his hand, something he didn’t do _that_ often. 

“Yes, Patrick?” 

“What is the big deal with guys touching and shit? Like. People touch. And look. And stuff. That doesn’t make them gay. That just makes them human. Isn’t it kind of ridiculous to think that it’s normal for girls to hold hands and be straight but guys brush arms and they are mega gay?” 

Amber nodded at him and gave a soft smile. “It is an unfair bias in a lot of ways, but there is something to be said for the way males are treated in the society that is also unfair. Men aren’t allowed to show as much affection as woman. Which can cause repression and anger.” 

Patrick slumped down in his seat and tried not to pout. Pouting would definitely not help his case of being a mature adult. He was pretty comfortable with his sexuality, always had been but something about this made him ever increasingly uncomfortable. He surreptitiously checked his phone to see home much longer of a session they had and saw, surprisingly, texts from Jonny. 

“ _Dude, summer is too long. What are you doing? Want to go to like Tibet or something?_ ”

“ _Oh yeah, you’re in class. You know you’re lame, right?_ ”

“ _Learning all about how you are insanely dense, right? Cause I could have told you that without the uni fees._ ”

And it hit him like a book to the back of his head. The sudden and painful realization that he was dumbly in love with that loser. That bromance was still the stupidest thing he’d ever heard because what he wanted to do was most definitely not “bromantic”. It was was plain and simple _romantic_. 

He wanted to take Jonny to those stupid museums that he always wanted to go to on the road. He wanted to let Jonny pick the restaurants. He wanted to listen to him talk about all the classes he took. He was stupid in love with Jonathan Bryan Toews. He had to hold back the dry heave. Cause there was being friends with a guy, maybe even harboring a bit of a crush on a guy and then there was this. 

The idea of _not_ being the one that got his stupid text and crazy ideas made him anxious in a way he was not prepared for. 

“Patrick?” 

He jerked his head up to realize everyone was staring at him, probably because he was standing up in the middle of the classroom looking at his phone like someone had just broke up with him or some shit. He looked at the teacher and blinked. 

“Family emergency,” he spat out. “I’ve got to…” 

He grabbed his crap off the table and shoveled it into his bag. Thankfully he was only taking one class so the only pain in his ass was winding up the wire to his laptop and shoving it into his bag with his computer. 

The room stayed pretty painfully quiet and he was aware of that. He knew that he was calling all sorts of attention to himself in a way he really really didn’t want to have. But fuck it. This was a big moment. He was like… having an epiphany here. Epiphanies weren’t made to wait. 

Amber looked at him skeptically. He had to get home to pack some clothes in a bag. He had to book a ticket. “Mr. Kane, we have twenty minutes, I’d advise you to stay.” 

And she had the teacher look **down**. He was two steps from the door but decided against it. 

* 

The thing about epiphanies that you don’t realize until you have one is that, unlike movies, time moves regularly afterwards. So Patrick realized that he was, holy shit, epically in love with Jonathan Toews and then he had to _finish_ class. There was only twenty minutes left, but it was a freaking long time. 

And okay, he spent the better part of that time with his mind barely half to the teacher and more on the computer he had thought to bring. There wasn’t much to be done about getting him there any faster than commercial flight, though the thought of chartering a plane _did_ enter his mind. 

He texted Jonny about a half a dozen times before he got a response back to confirm he was in Chicago and not freaking Canada which freaking thank G-D cause find his Passport like this? Not happening. 

Then class was dismissed and he had to drive **at a reasonable speed** to get to his house and throw his clothing in a bag. He’d already written off the final the next day. He was pretty sure with the grade he had in the class he could fail the final and still get a B or at very least a C and that was okay. That was beyond okay. 

He needed to get to Jonny. Even if it felt like he was getting there at half the speed of smell. Time was passing so slowly he was making sloppy mistakes. He left his keys on his side table, then his dining room table and finally _in the damn door_. He’d ordered an Uber and swore he had met the one and only Uber driver who drove _under_ the speed limit. 

Not that it ended up mattering because even with all of that, he got to the airport a painful two hours earlier than his flight would take off. Just to give him extra time to obsess over everything. He toyed with the idea of _calling_ Jonny to tell him what was going on but this wasn’t a phone call idea. 

His stupid sisters were at work and apparently, according to Jess, his ‘inevitable realization of his super gay love of Toews was not enough to warrant her getting in trouble’. The brats. 

Who the hell else was he supposed to call? Freaking Seguin? Seguin was bi, made no bones about it, but he had made it known he wasn’t the kind of guy to call with relationship problems. He told all his friends he wasn’t their ‘gay sherpa’ or whatever. Plus he was younger than him and Patrick had _some_ self respect. 

He ended up in the bar, sipping at a glass of whiskey really really slowly. Drunk Patrick was not the one needed right now. No matter how much he wished he would be the one he could turn to. 

“You okay there, buddy?” The bartender asked when she came back for the third time to check on him and he was barely half a finger down, swirling the ice and staring down at it forlornly. He checked the rest of the bar, almost empty, definitely no one near him. 

Patrick looked up at her and frowned. Normally, Patrick would use this as a perfect opportunity to flirt with the hot chick behind the counter. She was his type, blonde hair and blue eyed. Nice tits. But what he really wanted to do was ask her for help. Not like that was _her job_ or anything. 

“Why does time move so fucking slow?” 

The girl laughed. “Well, we like to think of time as this linear thing when it’s more a …” She looked at him for a long second. “Never mind, not joke time. Got it… Okay. In a fight?” 

He shook his head. “Opposite. Flying to tell someone I love them.” 

Her face brightened up. “Aww, sweet. Okay, well. Think of this as time to prep. Do you know what you are going to say to her?” 

The fact that he _didn’t_ flinch at the pronoun was a shock to himself. He swallowed a sip before he said. “I mean, what is there to say? Yo, it’s been like a decade and apparently I’m in love with you. I’m _sorry_?” 

“You’re sorry?” she rolled her eyes. “Come on, you can totally do better than that. This is a declaration, man. You want to come off as more sure of yourself than a middle schooler asking a girl to dance. Confidence, it’s sexy.” 

He took a longer swig. “See, that would be good. If I had any confidence in this not being a really really bad idea I might be able to pull it off.” 

“She married? Dating someone?” 

“No. No.” 

“She unaware that you have three freaking rings?” 

He startled and looked at her again. “Uh, no. They are painfully aware of that.” 

“So, you have some good in your corner,” she smiled. He looked at her name tag. Lacie. Why was he even shocked? “What girl would turn you down?” 

He gritted his teeth. He was well aware that even though the _idea_ of telling her that her heteronormative and frankly misogynistic views were detrimental and unfair _seemed_ like a good idea, it really really wasn’t and it would most likely get him in trouble. This was year two of actively not getting in the news for anything, true or not true. He was going for as long as he could. 

“It’s complicated,” he said, instead. 

“That’s just a Facebook status,” she rolled her eyes. “Either you are something or you aren’t and if the girl has a brain in her head than you DO have something.” 

He looked at the leftover whiskey in his cup and downed it in one go. 

Feigning a smile he threw a couple bill down. “Thanks. I should go.” 

That was a lie. He still had probably half an hour before pre-boarding but he wasn’t going to just sit and listen to her. Though, against his will, he conceded she had one basic idea right. He probably should think of something beyond, _“We were talking in class today and I realized that I am in love with you, yes homo.”_

He made his way to the actual boarding area and sat, head low and hat down as far as it could go, like it would hide anything. At least he was smarter than the last time he’d actually tried to go somewhere incognito and accidently grabbed his Hawks’ hat rather than his ratty old Bills’ hat. Everyone here had a ratty Bills’ hat. It worked out. 

His phone buzzed. 

“ _When you coming **home** to Chicago?_ ” 

Jonny. It was Jonny. It wasn’t exactly a shock. Jonny totally texted him whenever he wanted to. Except… usually Patrick could just casually text him back and it would be easy and awesome. 

“ ~~Right now.~~

~~Not soon enough~~

~~Home?~~ ” 

He kept starting and deleting things over and over again. The small amount of whiskey made him brave but the rest of him made him chicken and so nothing seemed like a good idea at all.

“ _Kaner, I swear if you are just studying and ignoring me I’m going to punch you._ ”

“ _My class ends tomorrow._ ” He responded, truthfully. 

“ _No underwater basket weaving class next semester?_ ” 

Patrick stuck his tongue out at the phone. “ _Isn’t that your hippie dippie shit? Sedona not have that for you?_ ” 

“ _You wish you were with me for my awesome life._ ” 

That made his fingers hesitate over the keys for a long time. Fucking iPhones and their read receipts. 

“ _Kaner_ ” 

“ _I’ll talk to you in a few hours, okay?_ ” and then on a whim added. “ _Don’t miss me too freaking much._ ” 

With what little bravery he had left he turned his phone to airplane mode, which worked out pretty well as boarding began a moment later. 

*

A flight from Buffalo to Chicago, with takeoff and landing included, is about an hour and a half, an hour and forty five if Chicago was being particularly Chicago-y that day. Patrick knew this, but checked his phone well over the allotted amount of normal times a human could look at their phone in the span of an hour. 

His neighbor was a fan, which was cool. He tried to appreciate all of the times he got to spend talking with fans, even if he would rather talk about concrete dry time rather than the chances of trade rumors and when he thought he’d retire. But somehow this made time move painfully slower. It was like the more this guy talked the more Patrick was sure that time was figuring out a way to go _backwards_. There was no way it was possible that he’d only been on the plane for an hour and ten minutes with the way the questions had flown. 

But it was true. Painfully painfully true. He answered all the questions he could and tried to keep himself with a cheery smile. He even made it through a ten minute rant about Sharpy being the stupidest trade they’d made. Which, okay, he kind of agreed with but to _this guy_ Sharpy was a piece of a puzzle that would get them a ring while to him Sharpy was _Patrick and Abby and Sadie and Maddie_. It was _family_. 

As time was pushed forward he tried his best to put each of his breaths into an even rhythm. The last thing this guy needed was to watch **Patrick Kane** have a big freak out on a plane. Like that shit wasn’t already following him around at any given time. 

He thought he would genuinely cry when the nice lady made a comment over the intercom about them putting the landing gear down. 

*

Patrick, after grabbing his H3, went to Jonny’s place, he wasn’t there. He called a few of the guys but they couldn’t find them. He wasn’t at the arena. This was most definitely not how it was supposed to go down in the grand scheme of things. He was going to freak the hell out when he gave one last ditch effort.

Finally, freaking finally, he found Jonny at the freaking practice rink. 

Of course. 

He was in street clothes, thankfully, which meant he was either coming or going, not that it really mattered to him because fuck it. It had been a long seven hours since his revelation and the last thing he needed was to think about logistics. Jonny in the shower, however… he digressed. 

“Kaner?” Jonny stared him down, blinking only once as if to see if he needed to clear up the image. “What the hell?” 

Which was where he was supposed to tell him 'what the hell'. They were in an empty locker room, the time was pretty much prime for the picking but then again his brain was going rapid fire. He put two of his fingers to the side of his right temple in a mock salute and inhaled deeply. 

“Uh,” he stumbled. “Hi?” 

“Hi,” Jonny said, making that sliver of a lip and biting at the bottom part of it. “Is this why you’ve been all out of touch today.” 

Patrick frowned. “I was out of touch for like three hours max, Jonny.” 

Then again, they did like to text. Fuck. He was in so deep. 

“Are you okay? You look like you ran here from freaking Flubbalo,” Jonny said and Patrick didn’t even have the energy to poke him about Winterpeg. 

“So I started taking this class,” he blurted out. 

Jonny nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, you’re pretty vague but you told me, weirdo.” 

“And at first it was to get you off my stupid back from your _barely_ going to college to play hockey, you know?” he steamrolled past the look on Jonny’s face. “But then there were only two classes left so I signed up to take the history of Queer Literature and Cinema. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s what it turned out to be.” 

He waited for the laughter but none followed, which was oddly reassuring. “I mean, I could have dropped it but it was a pretty cool class. Like. Eye opening and interesting. Do you know what they mean in old movies when they call someone a ‘confirmed bachelor’? Never mind. Either way. Took this class. The final is tomorrow. And today we were talking about male friendship in general and how it has morphed over years.

“Cause like at the turn of the century you could be all touchy and lovey and no one thought it was weird but now we look at each other and it’s a bromance. Which is a word I fucking _hate_ by the way. But we have this _friendship_ Jonny. And friendship is important. And our jobs are important. The last thing I want to do is fuck everything up.” 

Jonny huffed. “You’re not making sense, Kaner. You took a class about Queer lit and that changes our friendship how?” 

“Do you know that we have a latently homoerotic friendship?” Patrick asked, fast and sudden. He was pretty sure Jonny couldn’t understand me. It was one of those things that Patrick wished he could have someone else do it for him but apparently, it was all on him. “Okay.” He inhaled. 

“You’re freaking me out, Kaner.” 

“Okay. So we. The two of us aren’t normal, you get that right? Maybe stilted childhood stuff. Maybe the whole pressure we were put under but it doesn’t matter. We are closer than most. And it might just be like proximity for you, overexposure or something and I guess I’ll be okay with that but for me? It’s something more.”

Jonny opened his mouth and for a brief moment he hoped that his response was going to be a simple, ‘ _Me too_ ’. But then his mouth closed tightly and there was no response at all. 

“I get it, friendship route is totally the way you want to go… I just thought maybe…” 

Jonny pressed his two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “You’ve spent the last few weeks taking a class about sexuality in media and somehow that led you to what… a revelation that you might possibly be gay and your mind wandered to me as— what— your safety net?” 

“No, that’s not… That’s not what happened at all. I told you. I was in class and we were talking about like. Friendship and how it used to be different but then I realized I don’t _want_ friendship from you. I mean. I want the touching stuff. I want the touching and hugs and shit, but we already do that. I want _more_ than that. From you. Specifically. 

“Does it make me gay? At least a little. I guess. But like. Toews centric. Probably not David though.. cause ew.” 

Jonny made a face. “Ew.” 

“This was supposed to be epic,” Patrick deflated a little. 

“Epic?” 

Patrick shrugged. “You know, like romance movie epic. I tell you about the whole epiphany thing and you tell me you’ve always felt the same way and then we reciprocate it… or some shit. I’ll be honest. Most of those stupid movies end with kisses in the rain and while I’m cool with that, it isn’t rainy and I think they are missing out on the boning.” 

“Boning?” Jonny’s smile jerked up from the left side. “That class really gave your perspective AND romance, Patrick.” 

“Thanks, Jonny. Could you not be a jackass about this? This is kind of shitty enough.” 

Patrick looked up in time to find that Jonny was a good few inches closer and Patrick was going to take a step back but that would be pretty stupid when he was liking the feeling of Jonny. The closer the better. He breathed in the scent of Jonny. Definitely, post work out, but whatever. He’d grown used to that after the number of years they shared a room and it might be one of his more favorite smells which he acknowledged to be completely weird. 

“You love me?” Jonny asked, enunciating all the words slowly but surely. He was doing his Captain Serious face, one that Patrick had seen less of over the years.

He swallowed. “Swear to fuck, Jonny….” 

“That’s later,” Jonny smiled again. “Say it. I want to hear it.” 

Patrick inhaled and looked at top of Jonny’s shirt. He wanted to tug on it for some reason. To pick at the longer hair by his ear. He wanted to strip Jonny right there (at least he knew the reason for that). He just hoped this wasn’t some giant scam from Jonny, not that Jonny would be that type of person but he didn’t think he’d be the type of guy to go after his damn Captain so there what did he genuinely know? 

“Say… that I love you?” 

“Less of a question mark would be preferable, Kaner,” Jonny sighed. 

Patrick braced himself, inched a little closer and got to the point where his face was too close to be anything _but_ romantically close to Jonny. “I love you, you pompous Captain Jackass. I am blatantly homosexually in love with you.” 

“Well, good thing it’s homosexual love,” Jonny laughed. “Cause if you were in straight love with me, we’d have to talk.” 

Jonny edged close to him, staying quiet. They were touching in almost every way possible except the lips and Patrick was going to breach that. He was. Really really soon. But maybe he needed to hear it as well. So he waited. And he waited. Jonny tilted his head. 

“You’re supposed to reciprocate, fucker,” Patrick said, his lips literally on Jonny’s. 

Jonny rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I love you, too, Patrick. I’ve loved you for years, numb nuts.” 

So not the most romantic first kiss but whatever. He hoped that the first was going to be one of many so they could make up for it in the long run. Not that he bragged about it often, but he was a pretty baller kisser, so he took the time to enjoy the little moments of it. He bit Jonny’s stupid bottom lip, he licked his upper lip softly. In-kind he got little nibbles from Jonny on his lip. 

He used both of his hands to push against Jonny’s chest. 

“YEARS?” he bellowed, probably too loud for the distance between them. 

Jonny flinched and then looked a little sheepish. “You don’t exactly scream someone who might want be okay with their teammate wanting to date them.” 

“Who said anything about dating?” Patrick asked, but couldn’t finish the sentence without laughing. “Okay. I want to date you. I want to be all nauseating and domestic and shit with you. I mean, we can beat Brent and Dayna _easy_ , here.” 

“That might be much,” Jonny stuck out his tongue. “But at least we can out nauseate Sharpy and Abby.” 

Patrick kissed him, partially because he could. “Dude. FaceTiming those two. Or flying to Dallas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cheerleaded by my friends, first written because of my wife having an idea... The classwork is a mixture of a few classes I took in college (a dogs age ago), research papers I've read, books I've read, trolling the internet for information and plain old being in fandom for 24ish years of my life. (I was 9, just FYI. It was Dawson's Creek where I learned that shipping will break your heart.)


End file.
